


Fingers

by Nympha_Alba



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-30
Updated: 2011-04-30
Packaged: 2017-10-18 20:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nympha_Alba/pseuds/Nympha_Alba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin stumbles on the truth like he trips over things in the castle; they're there but he just didn't see them. Once he's seen it, though, it's obvious: Arthur likes watching Merlin's hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fingers

Sometimes Arthur comes into Gaius's chambers with no real purpose. He doesn't say anything, just walks in to stand by the table while Merlin arranges herbs in bunches for drying, powders leaves for Gaius's potions or just leafs through a book. Arthur's eyes are dark on these occasions, pupils dilated; his jaw is set and the beautiful mouth pressed into a hard line. The first few times it happens, Merlin thinks Arthur is displeased, but finds this is not the case. He's only intensely focused.

Merlin stumbles on the truth like he trips over things in the castle; they're there but he just didn't see them. Once he's seen it, though, it's obvious: _Arthur likes watching Merlin's hands._

The realisation freezes his movements for a second. When he continues to crumble dried mint into the wooden bowl his hands are shaking a little. He hopes Arthur won't see it, or hopes Arthur will see it, and know. Know that Merlin knows.

Merlin reaches for the bottle of lavender oil, not because he needs it but because it's just by Arthur's elbow, so close he can brush his fingers against the sleeve of the red tunic when he lifts it. Arthur inhales audibly through his nose.

Merlin has to look up then. Arthur's eyes are dark and his hand shoots out to close around Merlin's wrist.

"Have you any idea," says Arthur quietly, "what your hands do?"

It could be a reprimand. Merlin knows it isn't.

"No," he breathes.

That makes Arthur laugh, but not because anything is funny. His eyes aren't laughing at all.

"Yes," Merlin ventures, his heart pounding. "Maybe."

Arthur's eyes hold his for a second that is an eternity, and the first brush of Arthur's lips against his is as powerful as any fire spell. The fragrance of mint is icy and sweet in their nostrils but does nothing to cool their blood, rushing and roaring in their ears, licking along their veins.

There are many ways to claim ownership. Arthur's fingers hold Merlin's wrist; Merlin's hand cups Arthur's jaw. Nothing else is needed.


End file.
